How Sweet It Is

In a dramatic turnaround from this past weekend
when El Maestro came by the Fun House
and for 9 hours beat me like a red-headed stepchild
in 8-ball and 9-ball,
tonight I turned the tables and went undefeated
in the weekly Stagecoach 8-ball tournament,
finishing with a match against El Maestro himself.

The 80 bucks for first place
goes to my favorite charity, as usual.

I had to post this blog entry right away,
just in case I died in my sleep tonight
and didn't get the chance to record this epic win.

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Just When I Think I Can't Hit A Ball...

After last night's buffoonery
of scratching on the 8-ball, twice,
I matched up with Mike Rogers this afternoon,
and get my butt handed to me in 9-ball,
even though I always win against him.
I guess it was that huge bowl of soup I had
right before the match.
I was sluggish, sleepy, and shooting sloppy.
(He might actually be shooting a bit better!)

So by late afternoon,
I'm thinking I'm no longer The Invincible King,
just some peasant ball-banger.
This is not a good self-image!

But as they say,
it's not how many times you get knocked down,
as long as you keep getting back up,
so I dragged my sorry self to Pacific Q Billiards
for the Wednesday night tournament,
and, hey, whaddayaknow... I came in second.

The monster payoff of $29
goes to charity, of course,
as do all pool winnings.
(It didn't seem enough, so I doubled it.)

I hadn't shot pool at Pacific Q Billiards before,
but the tables were good and the place was clean,
and I arranged a few matchups for later.

The highlight of my tournament was winning 3-0
against Mark, who is an excellent shooter,
in the match for the hot seat,
after losing to him 1-3 in an earlier match.

Here's how it went:
3-0 vs. Evan, he gets the 8
1-3 vs. Mark, even
3-0 vs. Amber, she gets the 7 out
3-1 vs. James, he gets the 8
3-0 vs. Mark, even
1-3 vs. Matt, he gets the 8

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Perfect

Tonight was a crescendo of stress.

I felt jinxed from the start:
it's a dinky bar box pool table.
Real pool players let their stroke out
on the regulation full-size tables.
(My only losses last session were on bar boxes)

Tonight was the last match of the session.
Our team was in a tie for first place.

We needed four wins
to cinch the Division Championship.

I needed to win
or the team would lose.

I needed to win
to stay undefeated
and win the Perfect Session trophy.

All of this was hanging over every shot.
The games were long.
Lots of safety play.
Every shot was a potential match winner/loser.

Now, for the heart-stopper:
My worthy opponent
(Seth Walter, skill level 5)
only needed 3 games to my 5,
and he got himself to the hill 2-2,
so I needed 3 in a row to win.

Must win 3 games in a row.
For the undefeated Perfect Session,
the team,
the Division Championships...

If I lose,
I'm a choke, and a joke,
and my name will be spat from the mouths
of pool shooters far and wide.

If I win,
there will be great joy in the land,
and I will bask in the glory of
Victory!

These are my possible futures, it's true.
But either of these futures is
the result of what I do Now,
each instant of this match,
as it plays out.

First of all, I must
get my mind back in the game.
So I go stand alone,
away from team distractions,
and look only at the ball layout,
and think only about
what I will do when I get a shot.

Right then, about 3 major babes,
in matching green slutty dresses,
and spike heels,
entered the bar,
cruised around talking with customers,
and then left,
all within about 2 minutes.
I didn't catch what they wanted,
maybe selling tickets or something...

Right there you have an example
of how un-focused I was on the game.
If I was truly in the game,
I would never have noticed anything
other than the game,
not even triple babe-aliciousness.

I am living through a nightmare match,
my head is completely up my butt,
I am within minutes of becoming a Loser.

No place to hide.
I was on the ropes.
Going down fast.

In aviation they have a phrase
to describe the moments prior to disaster
when the pilot-in-command
"runs out of altitude, airspeed, and ideas"
all at the same time.

Everything was on the line...

What man could rise to such a challenge?

The pressure was at volcanic levels!
Human beings are not built to endure this.
The heart will blast through the chest,
or an artery in the brain will erupt.
Explosive ear hair growth!
Instant goiter!
Boils!
Spontaneous combustion!
And then, of course, death.

But,
it wasn't my day to die.

Somehow,
I rose to the challenge.

It was ugly.
But I won.

Like they say:
"The record books don't say How, only Who".

As of tonight,
the record books will forever confirm that
during the Summer Session APA 8-ball,
ending August 9, 2007,
Michael McCafferty
did achieve:

1.
the MVP trophy,

2.
the Perfect Session trophy,
(undefeated)

3.
the Division Championship,
(team)

4.
Skill Level Seven,
(the highest).

As I write this,
I'm enjoying a pint of Murphy's stout
with a Bushmills Black depth-charge,
and getting philosophical about how
this could have turned out so differently,
with a bit more of a roll one way or the other...

Which god favors me so...
Fortune, Destiny, Chance?
And, why?

For the answer, stay tuned...

Until then, here's a clue:

Begin It Now!

Until one is committed, there is hesitancy,
the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness.

Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation),
there is one elementary truth,
the ignorance of which
kills countless ideas and splendid plans:

That the moment one definitely commits oneself,
then Providence moves too.

All sorts of things occur to help one
that would never otherwise have occurred.

A whole stream of events issues from the decision,
raising in one's favor
all manner of unforeseen incidents
and meetings and material assistance, which no man
could have dreamed would have come his way.

Whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it.

Boldness has Genius, Power and Magic in it.

Begin it now!

(Goethe)

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Eight In A Row

After the last 2 weeks without competition,
the killer instinct was beginning to wane,
so I took extra care with pre-match preparation
for last night's APA team 8 ball.

I guess it's what you should expect
when you prepare the most
that your preparations are most in vain.
Last night proved that rule.

I could go into a litany of all the uglies,
but that would be boring;
suffice it to say that if it could go wrong, it did.

Other than my match, that is,
which, when it finally got started,
at a time when I am normally finished and home,
it went reasonably well.
(5-2 vs. James Housewright, skill level 6)


I won the first two games,
and was feeling pretty good about it, but
he won the next two games
and I didn't like that one bit.
This meant that with the one game spot I gave him
I had to win 3 games, he needed 2.
And since he had just won the last 2,
he was on a roll, the energy going his way.

I had to close him down, hard.
Play only high percentage shots.
Play lockup safeties.
Bear down mentally.
Focus like a junk yard dog.

One memorable shot was a
3-rail, reverse english, table length maneuver
for squeaker position to get the runout.
I executed the tough shot perfectly,
but then screwed the pooch on the easy shot
(two feet, straight-in)
because I was trying to sweeten the po' on the next.
As Homer Simpson would say: "Doh!"

This seems to be some sort of Universal Law that
Spectacularly Awesome is followed by Spectacularly Dumb.
This may be why Einstein, while he got
The Special Theory of Relativity right,
he blew it with his Unified Field Theory
(look it up).

So far in this Summer Session,
my track record stands at 8 matches played, 8 won.
While I'm pleased with those numbers,
I am still living for the day when
perfection comes more easily,
the shots flow flawlessly,
I never have to stop and think,
and I never miss.
Dead stroke in competition!

Just one day like that would be nice...

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Invincible

Last night,
two alpha dogs faced off in battle.
One of them was me.

Only one of us would emerge the Victor.
It was him or me.

I entered this battle
with a perfect record of 6 matches, 6 wins.
This is what I had at stake.
I was loathe to lose
and soil my spotless record.

I had to win.

The match was an ugly slugfest.

My strategy was to cut off his oxygen,
to give him no hope,
to frustrate him,
to let him see only darkness,
reduce his odds of success,
to burden him with doubt...

In so doing, I played tight,
I did not Flow,
and I missed shots,
there were distractions,
the tables, bar boxes, were pure garbage.

At the end,
after two and a half hours of chessmatch,
I ruled the day.
(5-2 vs. Tony Bigbee, skill level 7)

Seven matches played, seven won.
I remain undefeated.
Alone,
at the top.

In all of San Diego APA 8-ball,
with more than 1600 players,
there are only 84 (less than 5%)
who are ranked Skill Level Seven
which is the highest skill level possible.

I'm one of them.

As of this time,
now past the middle of the session,
I have won more matches than any other Seven,
and I am undefeated.

---

It is early morning as I write this.
I woke up after only 4 hours sleep.
The adrenaline of last night's victory
still pumping hot in my veins.

More juicy than the victory itself
is that it takes me to the highest point.
Victorious in every contest.
No matter the opponent,
no matter the venue,
no matter the conditions.

In the Fullness of Time,
it has come to pass that
I walk among the Sevens as One of Them,
and, for this moment,
I am undefeated.
I fear no one.

After last night's match,
El Maestro shook my hand,
looked at me squarely,
and in all dead seriousness said:
"No one can beat you."

Wow.

---

Invincible:
The Legend of Fast Mikie
On the Path of Truth and Beauty in
The Art and Science of Billiards
as taught by
"El Maestro" Tony Sorto

story told by
"Fast Mikie" Michael McCafferty

Email now to reserve your
personalized, signed first edition collectors' copy.
only $US 22.50, limited time introductory period
includes tax and shipping
(outside USA extra).

Includes private, members only website access
to web cam, video library, and forums.

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Sweet Squeaker

Someone once mentioned to me that
the secret to winning at pool
is to never let your opponent get "on the hill".
Well, duh!

However, there is a certain simplicity to it.
If the other guy gets to the hill,
and the game has any element of luck
(and of course it does)
then anything can happen.
And, "anything" in this case means you can lose.

This sets the stage for last night's match,
my first public appearance as a Seven.

The team captains toss the coin
to decide which team puts up the first player.
I wasn't watching,
but I guess we lost the toss
because all of a sudden I get the nod.
I'm being put up "blind"
without knowing who the other team puts up.

This is not to our/my advantage, I'm thinking.
Surely, if they respond in a typical way,
they will throw a lower skill level player at me,
which means they only have to win 2 games
and I have to win 6.
Naturally the element of luck works in favor
of the player who needs the fewest games to win.

The other captain didn't miss a beat.
He puts up their UNDEFEATED skill level 3
who, as El Maestro says, shoots like a 5.

I have heard El Maestro speak of the
extreme danger in situations like this.
For example, if the low skill level player
should luck into an 8 ball on the break,
or I scratch on an 8,
or rattle an 8 in the jaws,
or some other such awful thing,
then with only one win,
the other guy is "on the hill".

So there is added pressure to
exercise immediate and total control, from the first shot.
I win the lag, and the first two games,
but my opponent, somehow, gets the third game,
and now I must be flawless for the next 4
or my undefeated record is gone,
and my debut as a Seven will
result in the humiliation of defeat by a S/L 3.

I know I have to shut my opponent down totally,
leaving no possibility for them to run out,
or even get lucky.
I must play safe until I can run out, absolutely.
It turned into a marathon of 105 minutes.
I won, 6-1.
(vs. M. Morgan, s/l 3)

The last game was most interesting.
I broke, made a solid,
and as the balls came to rest
I saw that solids were sitting pretty for a runout.

It was at this time that the Devil Himself appeared
on my left shoulder and whispered:
"Go for it."
And on my right shoulder, an angel whispered:
"Mikie, Mikie... it's hill-hill, be careful.
Remember what we learned about
the folly of effortless spectacular runouts?"

The Devil laughs mightily and sneers:
(I could swear the voice was George Bush)
"Are you kidding? A child, a moron could run this table!"
"It's a break and run for the win! How juicy!"
"Go for it Mikie... show your Seven stuff."

The angel probably said something wise,
but I didn't hear it,
as I was salivating at the thought of
my first Break and Run patch
in my first appearance as a Seven.
I could feel my already oversized ego
expanding to new, untested dimensions.
Explosion was imminent, and probable,
but such bloated egos are deaf to wisdom,
blind to all but ever more self-aggrandizement.

So I go for it...
And it goes nicely until,
with two solids and the 8 left,
El Maestro calls timeout.

He counsels one way of dealing with the out,
and I share with him my plan,
which he approves as being more cautious
(saving for last the solid blocking a stripe)
but it involves tricky position play
to carom the 8 off a stripe, into the side,
and shooting from the rail on that final shot.

Such was my plan, and
I pocketed the remaining solids,
both down-the-rail shots from across the table,
and fell into position for the 8-ball carom
for the win.

Sweet.

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New Moon, New Insights

Just a few thoughts about The Game,
on the evening of winning my match,
and also the evening of the New Moon.
The times around a New Moon and Full Moon
seem to find me writing...

A pool match is a zero-sum game.
There will be one Winner, and one other guy.

Winning feels good, of course,
but Playing Well is more satisfying.

Playing Well is
To stroke well and true, and with creativity,
and designed to win.

Playing well is to be Strong, and Fearless.

Playing Well
is
Love of the Game,
made visible.*

Playing Well creates the Win.

Tonight I won again, 5-0.
(vs. Jamie Day, skill level 5, then in 4th place)
I am undefeated so far this session, 5-0.
Four out of my 5 last opponents
didn't earn a single game against me.
I'm thinking that means I am getting better at
controlling the game.

I felt I played better tonight.
I did miss a couple of shots,
but I played a couple of real nice ones,
so on balance I did pretty good.

---

After my match,
El Maestro was coaching another team mate
on a safety play.
I suggested a different approach
and El Maestro adopted it to the situation.
This tells me that
I'm starting to see the game more clearly.

I can only get better with more experience.

---

* reminder: (c) 2007, all rights reserved!

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Love the Glove

I bought a glove a couple of weeks ago.
I was skeptical, but curious, and it was only 10 bucks.
I didn't get around to trying it out
until a few days ago.
I didn't want to use it in a match
without first getting some practice with it.

Why use a glove?
I favor a closed bridge for most shots,
and my hands get sweaty in pressure situations
especially if it's hot and humid.
This causes drag on the stroke.
Powder works ok, but it's a mess.

At first, the glove felt weird,
but with persistence,
it started showing some advantages.
The big plus is that it gives a consistent feel
under all conditions.
Another advantage is that
I can tighten my grip with the closed bridge
and this helps with a more confident shot.

Tonight was my first public use of the glove.
It was an APA team 8-ball match.
I won 5-0.
(vs. Tom Oeschger, skill level 6)


So I guess I'll be using the glove for a while.

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The Folly of Effortless Spectacular Runouts

Fast Mikie wins again, 5-2.
(APA 8-ball, vs. Michael A. skill level 6)

That's the good news.
And of course winning is better than
a sharp stick in the eye,
but I am still not pleased with my game.

I want to win more easily,
with more Flow,
where each shot follows effortlessly
from the previous shot, and
each position appears natural and simple,
and there is no Angst,
no "Sturm und Drang".

My game must be painful to watch
because it seems so painful to me.
I feel that pool is, in the main, a competition,
and yet almost equal part performance art.
Winning is the Primary Requirement,
but Style is also mandatory.

El Maestro says that
I go for unlikely, unreasonable runouts,
that I need to play more safeties,
to push a ball in front of a pocket,
to tie up my opponent
and let him make the mistakes.

I do see the Truth of this approach.
It it incontrovertible.
And this causes me much conflict.

My spirit is filled with Unbounded Optimism.
I just naturally feel drawn to finding
an extraordinary solution to the runout,
even if it is low percentage,
and maybe so much the better!

I want effortless spectacular runouts.
Is that asking too much?

It seems that my life has been
a succession of inventing extraordinary successes
gained only after creating extraordinary challenges.
It's the Brinksmanship I enjoy.

To play safe at times of greatest challenge
seems to be like drinking day old champagne.
Yes, I see the Zen-like simplicity and elegance
of a perfectly finessed lockup safety,
and yes, I understand intellectually that
such a ploy would give the better odds of victory.

It must be my Ego which is the block.
Grotesquely bloated after years run amok,
my Ego needs to find Humility.
I need to absorb Sun Tzu's Art of War
wherein he teaches:

Hence to fight and conquer in all your battles
is not supreme excellence;
supreme excellence consists in
breaking the enemy's resistance without fighting.


Therefore the skillful leader
subdues the enemy's troops without any fighting;
he captures their cities without laying siege to them;
he overthrows their kingdom
without lengthy operations in the field.

I must learn this.
I need to resolve this conflict within.
And I yearn to play with more Flow.

I will work diligently on this.

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To Become a Seven, BE a Seven

In the early afternoon of yesterday,
as I was preparing myself mentally for
another APA team 8-ball match,
I was struck with this simple thought:
"To Become a Seven, BE a Seven."

The "Seven" of which I speak
is the highest skill level for APA 8-ball.
Currently, my skill level is six.

It is easy for non-Sevens to see Sevens as
high-priests of pool, exalted beings
who perform magical feats with ease.
Achieving the remote pinnacle of Seven-dom
seems to be almost hypocracy, unthinkable,
or at least, earned only after a lifetime of effort.

Or is it?
The Zen approach puts the Seven within all,
waiting patiently for us to see it, believe it,
and let it blossom.

This, then, was my thought of yesterday afternoon.

It is easy to see a goal as beyond our grasp.
This is a Western way of thinking.
Work hard to earn what we want, over Time.
Eastern philosophy speaks of a different way:
that we need not pursue happiness, because
we are already happy,
or, priorly established in that which is
Happiness Itself.

It was a beautiful day when I learned that,
many years ago.
And yesterday afternoon I relearned it,
as it applies to pool, and Seven-dom.

So, instead of putting the achievement of Seven
outside of myself,
something that I was NOT YET,
I allowed myself to think that I am already Seven,
and that in order to become a Seven,
I simply allow myself to BE Seven-like.
To think, act, move, talk and feel like a Seven.

Last night I won my match, 5-1.
(vs. Richie R., skill level 6)
This is the same score as last week,
and, like last week, the only loss
was self-inflicted.
I knocked the 8 in early, on a miscue.

This means that in my last two matches,
my opponents have earned exactly zero games.
I would love for that to continue!

And yet, I was not pleased with my performance.
Will I ever be?
Will "Seven" ever be enough?
For that answer, I am reminded of
the words of San Juan de la Cruz
which first struck me so hard when I first
read them in the preface to
Carlos Casteneda's "Journey to Ixtlan":

The conditions of a solitary bird are five:
The first, that it flies to the highest point;
The second, that it does not suffer for company,
not even of its own kind;
The third, that it aims its beak to the skies;
The fourth, that it does not have a definite color;
The fifth, that it sings very softly.


It was 25 years ago my then-girlfriend
presented me with these words
which she lovingly penned in calligraphy
on parchment, and mounted for display.
She knew then the answers
to the questions I have had many times since.

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New Session, New Life

Yesterday was the first match of
a new APA team 8 ball session.

I was feeling good,
and I think I played better
than I have in a long time.
I was focused, and relaxed,
and I saw the paths through the patterns,
and my position play was good.

I won 5-1.
My only loss came on the first game,
when I went for a cross-side cut-bank shot on the 8,
and since banks are one of my weaker areas
I lined it up with pure intuition,
and tried to draw the cue ball
to the foot rail to leave my opponent tough
(opponent JP, skill level 6)
in case I missed the shot.
I made the bank (yeah!)
but scratched in the corner (yuk).

It was one of those shots where
you go from ecstacy to agony within a second.
But I had to just let it go and bear down.
I won the next 5 games in a row, and the match.

I've been putting more time on the treadmill lately,
and that may have contributed to how good I felt
going into the match.

And, in the afternoon before the match,
I picked up 10 black un-numbered Aramith balls
at Quality Billiards
and shot them until they lost their identity,
in the hopes that I would not miss another 8 ball
like I did in my last match.
This must have worked because last night
every 8 ball dropped as intended.

One of the games was a safety marathon
which must have gone at least 21 innings,
even with El Maestro coaching me.
The complexities of safety play
still challenge me.

Hmmm... let's see,
I need work in banking, the break, safety play...
what AM I good at?

;o)

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An Opportunity to Do Something Extraordinary

It's Thursday again,
and that means APA team 8-ball,
and that also means that
I start getting the pre-match head trips.

So I take some time to update my affirmations,
and print them out and read them aloud.
But I'm still antsy and nervous on the drive north,
but some deep, slow breathing helps calm me down.

And then the thought hits me:
Each trip to the table is
an opportunity to do something extraordinary.
Of course, I could screw it up completely,
but I could also do something great.
I don't really know how it will turn out,
but it certainly is an opportunity.

That's the positive visualization I needed...
During my match
I keep repeating this to myself.

I win, 5-1, vs. Miles H.
One game went 18 innings
due to extensive safety play
and that was a lot of fun.

My session record is now 9 and 2
for a win rate of 82%.

When I look back on those two losses
I can see that I may have won if
I had a more positive attitude during the match.

I am reminded of the great quote
from the movie 2001: A Space Odyssey...
"Something's going to happen, something wonderful."
Click here for the soundtrack.

(blog top)

New Rule: Ball in Hand for Talking

A good player stopped by last night
and we played two matches of 9 ball,
each a race to 7 games.

I won both, but not by much.

Neither of us had a break and run,
or even ran a rack after a dry break by the other.
And, to me, that indicates
a relatively low level of performance.
I know that each of us can do better.
So what was the problem?

There was a whole lotta talkin' goin' on.

I haven't seen him in several months,
so there was a bit of catching up to do.
I tried to get these social pleasantries done
before we got started into some serious pool.
But that didn't work out in the long run.

I propose a new rule:
We give up ball in hand if we talk during the match.

You don't see Bustamonte asking Fong-Pang Chao
where's the best sushi in Kyoto during a match.
No way!

There's no social chatting during a chess match.
Or boxing, tennis, track events, etcetera ad nauseum.

I think talking is sharking, pure and simple.
Or else it is loss of self control.
In either case, it shows lack of respect
for the game, and for the opponent.
Either way, it should be penalized, case closed.

A couple of weeks ago
another practice partner wanted to shoot some,
but it seemed all he really wanted to do
was talk about his divorce.

I can assure you, the only person on Earth who
wants to talk about your divorce is your lawyer,
and then only if he's getting paid a lot of money.
Even so, your lawyer might wish he could be
shooting pool at the same time
to help deaden the pain of hearing about it.

But not me.

Pool is a meditation.
It wants the highest level of attention.
Otherwise it's just banging balls around.

If something is worth doing,
(I can hear my parents saying)
it is worth doing right.
And if it is worth doing right,
then it deserves to have the fullest attention.

Attention is a cornerstone of Zen practice.
And maybe that is why I am such a hermit.
Random events are reduced to a minimum.

So there is a new rule at Mikie's Fun House:
Talking during a match gives up ball in hand.
Pass the word, hopefully it will catch on.
And our play will improve.

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In Pursuit of Seven...

In APA league team 8 ball last night
I won my match 5-2
against Jamie Day
and our team won 4-1.

My performance was undistinguished,
but I do remember making one really nice shot
going two rails to split a cluster
in exactly the way I wanted.
And, I ran out after my opponent's dry break.

Other than that, it was work.
Nothing came easy. I was tight.
It might have been because El Maestro was there
for the first time after a 4 week absence
to visit family in Honduras.

Following my sluggish performance,
Tony plays a flawless 5-0 win
with such ease and beauty
it is almost unbelievable that
he hasn't played in 4 weeks.

As of after last night's win,
I have played 10 matches, won 8.

As of before last night's win,
the MVP standings show me tied for 5th place
out of 104 players with 1+ wins.
Due to starting this session late,
I missed 4 matches,
so there is little hope of coming in first.

But that's not the goal.
I'm really in search of earning a skill level 7
the highest you can get for APA 8-ball
(now at level 6).
And for that, I'm going to have to play better.

Back to the practice table...

(blog top)

We don't need no stinking excuses!

Last night, as every Thursday night,
was another APA team 8-ball match,
and our team "101 Excuses"
earned a strong 4-1 win.

My match was a 5-2 win
against a player with an equal skill level.
(Don S.)

So what is it about "excuses" anyway?
It seems that they have an uncanny ability
to leap into the mind at the least provocation,
and many times with no reason whatsoever.

For example, on the afternoon before my match,
the monkey brain starts chattering to me:
1. my shoulder hurts, can I break well enough?
2. my stroke hand hurts, should I take a pill?
3. if I do, will it effect my game?
4. am I due for a loss? (nice win streak going)
5. I feel bloated after big meal, sluggish
6. didn't get enough sleep
7. no pre-match time on the table
8. my opponent called me out. He's ready!
9. opponent has home table advantage.
10. etc, etc, etc...

That's just what's going thru my mind
before I ever get to the table!

Our team isn't called "101 Excuses" for nothing!

Three years ago, when I was a newbie at this,
I was a mess.
I had no way of dealing with
all the mind chatter, the nervousness,
the distractions, the excuses.

And now, I take it in stride.
I've come to expect the demons
to rise up in my mind.
I know they will pop up continuously
if I let them,
and worst of all,
at the worst possible times.

The practice of meditation helps a lot.
Meditation is the practice of quieting the mind,
by recognizing stray monkey-mind thoughts
and simply releasing them
and going back to just sitting and breathing.

With practice,
letting go of thoughts becomes easier.

One thing I have found that
helps prevent the exuses from showing up
is actively engaging in positive self talk,
such as affirmations and visualizations.
It is extremely difficult, if not impossible,
for the mind to have two different thoughts
at the same time.

Therefore, if you busy your mind
with positive, constructive thoughts,
negatives can not pop in.

And, on those many other occasions
when an excuse will find its way into your mind,
deal with it immediately
by thinking of the appropriate anti-excuse.

For example,
today, when I thought that maybe my winning streak
might be getting a bit too long,
and maybe I was due for a loss,
the anti-excuse was to think
that each match is independent of all others,
and that previous wins/losses have
absolutely no effect on each other
(except as I let my mind have such effect).

Other excuses need remedial Action.
Gotta pee? So pee!
Feeling sluggish? Drink a coke.
Nervous? Breathe!
Shooting too quick? Walk around the table!
Distracted? Stand up, re-do preshot routine.

I have used the technique of positive self-talk
in other activities in the past,
but I credit El Maestro with showing me
the deeper secrets as it applies to pool.

As Yogi Berra said about baseball:
"(this game) is 90% mental,
and the other half is physical".

The quote: "We don't need no stinking excuses!"
is a modified form of the original "We don't need no stinking badges"
from the 1974 movie "Blazing Saddles"

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Character

I won 4-3
against a player of the highest skill level (7)
although it wasn't my best performance.

On the other hand,
my opponent distinguished himself
with a display of integrity.

It has been said that
the true character of a man is revealed by
what he does when no one is looking.

In the middle of last night's match,
when the games were about even between us,
Dave Arballo, man of integrity,
called a foul on himself,
a double hit on the cue ball,
giving me control of the table,
with ball in hand.
And, as might be expected,
it cost him the game.

I did not see him foul,
so of course I could not disagree with him,
and since he is an advanced player,
he would know a double hit when it happens.
There was nothing I could do.

It was just another example of
the ebb and flow of the tides of fortune and fate.

I was in a similar situation not long ago,
and I called a foul on myself,
but in this case I went on to win the match,
and the tournament.
(For the story of that big win, click here)

So, it could have gone the other way for Dave.

I made a couple of mistakes myself last night,
so it was a good learning experience.

The match was notable for one other reason:
For the first time ever,
I allowed a friend to attend one of my matches.
George had arrived earlier in the afternoon,
on a motorcycle ride from Washington to Phoenix.
He is a real good buddy,
I attended his wedding last summer,
so it was difficult to tell him no.

I decided to let him watch,
as a test of my ability to focus.
I knew I was playing with fire by doing this,
because I also knew there was a good chance
I would be playing Dave,
who has a higher skill level,
and my focus needed to be absolute.

And now back to the subject: Character.

The measure of a man's character is what
he would do if he knew he never would be found out.
Baron Thomas Babington Macauley,
English historian and statesman (1800-1859)

Most people say that it is the intellect
which makes a great scientist.
They are wrong: it is character.
Albert Einstein, Swiss-American mathematician,
physicist and public philosopher (1879-1955)

Character, in the long run, is the decisive factor
in the life of an individual and of nations alike.
Theodore Roosevelt,
American adventurer and 26th president (1858-1919)

Character, not circumstance, makes the person.
Booker T. Washington,
American educator and civil rights activist (1856-1915)

Fame is a vapor, popularity an accident, riches take wing,
and only character endures.
Horace Greeley, American journalist and educator (1811-1872)

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Just Doing My Job

Another Thursday night,
another APA team 8-ball match.

My match was dead last in the lineup,
my least favorite... I prefer to go first,
take care of business, and get out of there.
Hanging out in bars ain't for hermits like me.

I won the first game,
lost the second.

I have come to realize something about myself:
I really, really dislike losing.
It kinda puts me in a funky mood,
and, for a hedonist like me,
what's the point?

So, with the score 1-1
and my opponent (Ken Conley) with
the fresh taste of my blood,
I decide that I will tighten the screws.

This is something I learned from El Maestro.
Many times he will play safe when there is no need,
just to frustrate the opponent.
The cat toying with the doomed mouse.

While El Maestro has refined this to an art form,
it is not my preferred style.
I'm a lover, not a fighter,
and certainly not a torturer.
(not that there's anything wrong with that!)

I would much prefer to run out clean
than to drag things out by duckin' and divin'
and playing an unnecessary chess match,
but something inside me wanted to try a new tactic.

An evil spirit welled up within me,
and I played shot after shot
that was devious, gratuitous and even malicious.
I hated myself for it,
and yet, somehow, it felt sooooo good.

My strategy worked.
I won the match 5-1.

And now,
on the morning after,
I still feel dirty,
but it's a good kind of dirty,
if you know what I mean.

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Marathon chess match in a smoke filled room

Thursday night, another APA team 8 ball match...

I'm up first, against Dale,
who is ranked 6th in the MVP standings,
only 3 points out of second place.
I've never played on this table before
and get only two practice shots before we start.

I win the lag, break, and I'm hooked.
He shoots good and gets out. 1-0.
He breaks and gets a few balls.
I'm hooked again, so I try a safety
and mess it up.
He's out, to make it 2-0.

This is no way to start a match!
If he wins the next game,
he's on the hill,
and I'll need 5 games in a row!

That's just crazy thinking.
Ignore the score.
Focus on the table, the shot.
I gotta bear down, hard.

It was a marathon chess match
that lasted 100 minutes.
It took all the brainpower I could muster.

It was a pleasant surprise
when I hear the team's applause,
and my opponent comes over to shake my hand.
I didn't know until then that I won the match, 5-3.

The conditions were awful.
Heavy cigarette smoke.
(I hate cigarette smoke!)
Mini bar tables.
Extremely lively cushions, but slow cloth.
(Now there's a challenging combination!)
And, I swear, the table tilts uphill
at the entry to the pockets!

As the match wore on,
my focus faded out a couple of times,
probably due to the smoke,
but I caught myself
and got back into the game
by sheer will power.

I'm still learning...

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Half a run is better than none

Last night one of my regular practice partners
showed up at the Fun House for our monthly Wednesday night
practice session.

We started off with 9-ball,
and I won both sets 7-5 and 5-4,
but I was struggling.

Then we played some straght pool
and I won 100-68.
The highlight of the match was
my run of 24,
which is just slightly less than half of my target of 50,
but I guess "half a run is better than none".

If I can run 24, I can run 50.
I can taste it!

;o)

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Focus vs. Concentration

Concentrate

A. to bring all efforts, faculties, activities, etc., to bear on one thing or activity

B. to come to or toward a common center;

C. to become more intense, stronger, or purer.


Focus

A. to concentrate: to focus one's thoughts.

---

So much for Dictionary.com's meanings of these words.
For the full definitions, click on the underlined word/links.

The reason for a fuller analysis of these words is because
El Maestro and I went at it yesterday on the keys
to success in pool.

I have always used these words interchangeably,
and, based on the definitions above,
you might see how I could do that.
But in the pool world of El Maestro,
these words have different meanings.

It was only yesterday,
after 3 years of my dogged determination to learn
did I finally press the issue
when he told me that I have NEVER YET
been focused in a pool match.

Needless to say,
this was a stinging rebuke,
and my first and natural reaction was
to completely reject his hypothesis.
But I suspected it might be some language issue
(what with him being Honduran born and raised
and English being his second language)
so I pressed for a more complete analysis of his meaning.

For an example of "focus" he offered his own performance.
When he is playing a match,
he does not recognize distractions,
never talks,
never shows emotion
even on the rare occasion of a missed shot.
He never sits down,
never recognizes any person
even if they come up to him during a match.

He is a rock.
There is nothing in his mind except the table.
He never looks at his opponent,
even when he (the opponent) is shooting.
Instead, El Maestro will tend to the tip of his cue,
which may be one reason why he gets fewer hits per tip
than anyone I have known.

In comparison,
he tells me that I have some need to be a nice person
and talk with those who talk to me,
that I show emotion during the game,
that my attention wanders all over the place
from the TV to the spectators, players, loud noises
and shiny objects.
In short, I am a mess.

I complain bitterly to El Maestro
that his characterization is excessive,
and that surely I must have had at least one match
when I had good focus?
No.

Ouch!

In fact, he says, it is his judgement that
I have probably never been focused in my life.

What?
Impossible!
Surely my successes in yoga, business and aviation...
landing an open cockpit biplane in a high crosswind
on a narrow runway...
Was it all just luck?

Now he's pissing me off.
Who is he to negate my ability to focus?

Well, actually,
he's the best pool shooter I have ever seen,
so he just may have some basis for his assertions.

It may be time for me to assume some humility
and listen up.

El Maestro suggests that,
maybe I might want to actually try to focus
and see how my game improves.

I am reminded of Paramahansa Yogananda's quote:
"The results can not be achieved
unless the experiment is made."

So, with some humility,
and great determination,
I agree.

He challenges me to a race to 7 in 8 ball,
followed by a race to 7 in 9 ball.
In complete silence, and total focus.

We go hill-hill in 8 ball,
and in the last game I do an offensive safety.
He kicks at his 8 and sinks it cross corner for the win.
My focus was not shaken even though he
visibly marked the cushion with chalk
where he needed to kick at the ball,
(totally illegal)
and even though he did not call his pocket.

In 9 ball, I won 7-2.
Again, in complete silence,
even though there were several times
when he sharked me by moving in my field of view
while I was shooting.

His antics, of course, were a test for me,
and not his usual style of competition.

---

Concentration, in the world of El Maestro,
is what is needed at the time of shot-making.
If something happens to interrupt the concentration,
then, without losing focus,
one simply restarts the shot routine.

So, maybe Focus is "big picture"
and concentration is "little picture".
But you can't have concentration without focus.
Lose concentration, and you will probably miss the shot.
Lose focus, and you will probably lose the match.

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